Azka's Rage
by SeasonalRayn
Summary: Michael always had a flawed life. "Don't have any ideas that would make Azka want to turn on his best soldier." He had the power, the fame, but what was it worth if he was nothing but a bird trapped in a crystal cage? "I can't promise that, Ant. I'm sorry." Includes Achievement Hunter, Team Crafted and their friends
1. Chapter 1

**A/N) Hooray, a story. Let's hope I don't give up and delete it again. :D**

**Welcome to Azka's Rage, and I really hope to keep this story going. **

**...Unfortunately, my motivation usually goes low after a while, so um. Help me keep it up? :'D **

**I'll give you cookies - no wait, I don't have them.**

* * *

Warm eyes brightened with pent-up anger as Michael stomped towards the golden gates. He was unusually angry today for some unknown reason even to himself, and he needed to head towards the gates to throw it off his back. Even if it didn't work, at least he would have someone to talk to - not only was he angry, he was _bored -_ no one ever talked to him. Talk to the Angel famous for Rage-Quit and also one of the most powerful? No way.

Only demons would talk to him by now - and good for him, he knew just the one. He stops by the gate, poking a hand through it. "Ray?" he calls softly, and immediately a pair of dulled brown horns poked up from the clouds, followed by the rest of the person - a barely-tanned man with dorky black-rimmed glasses and a rather queer black tuxedo with some red thing poked through its lapel that he _always_ wore despite the heat.

"Hey, Michael," Ray says happily, and Michael grins, feeling a slight bit of his anger melt away. "Dude, what's wrong? You look even angrier than usual today. Was there any hard work for you? I brought you a gift if it would cheer you up, but I think it would be better if I just heard you out a bit first. You look like you'll bite my head off if I try anything."

Michael exploded the moment he had been given the go-ahead. "It's Skit again. He's a little younger than me but he's higher-ranked and his job is _preposterous_. 'Michael, go towards the Northern Wall and check for any intruders or strange marks on it,' he says one minute, then the next he's all up in my face like 'Michael, why haven't you went yet?' Like dude, it's only been like five seconds, I haven't had the _time_ to leave, I was _waiting for further instructions_. Then he never elaborates and leaves me hanging and I don't even know what I was supposed to be looking for! I mean, have you ever seen the Northern Wall!?"

Ray nods. "Yeah, I saw it once. Scratches and dirty marks _everywhere_, and I don't think it was from me when you tried to pull me over once. I still don't know how no one caught you trying to sneak me over. I mean, I'm pretty okay-looking, but I think they would've chased me out immediately. Boring place you live in, by the way." Ray snorts, and Michael glares. "No offense," he adds quickly, "but it's pretty hard to impress me when I've seen a lot of things."

"What did you bring me today?" Michael asks, and Ray grins, pulling the red thing out of the lapel and handing it over. Michael takes it, and drops it immediately, watching it fall through the cloud floor as pinpricks of blood rise over his palm. Ray ducks, snatching it up and handing it back. "What is that?" Michael asks, taking it more carefully, keeping a watch for the tiny green pricks that seemed to exist over the stick end of the thing.

"It's a rose," Ray says. "It's my favorite type of flower, and red ones are the best. We're talking about flowers today, by the way." Michael frowns, and Ray answers the question that blossomed in his mind. "Okay, so most flowers are like that. You see the red parts? Those are petals - no, don't pull them apart, I've worked hard trying to grab that without ruining it - and each flower has a certain number, but some alternates. The petals have different colors depending on the flowers... like bluebells are sort of droopy and purple-"

"Why call them bluebells then?" Michael asks, and Ray shoots him a look that says 'don't interrupt my lesson _this is important to me, _you need to know about these flowers I'm telling you about'. "Okay, okay," Michael snickers, and Ray sighs in exasperation that tells him to keep quiet and let him talk already. "I'll shut up, go on with your all-important lesson."

"Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted by a certain ginger-haired Angel, bluebells are droopy and purple and they look like roses, but their petals are tighter wound around the centre of the flower and have fewer petals. The part with the thorns is a stem, and bluebells have it curved in a sort of upside-down 'u', and there are multiple flowers connected to a single stem. No, not all stems have thorns - roses are just one exception."

Michael imagined it, a smile brightening over his face. Ray laughs. "I'll bring you more flowers tomorrow, and then I'll tell you about them. You should really see the sunflower - they're big, and their centres are large and brown, and their petals are smaller but they're yellow, and they always face the sun," Ray describes, and Michael grins. The flowers were pretty cool.

He wishes he could've seen them in person for himself, though.

* * *

"Were you talking to that Demon again?"

Michael blinks, his happy mood dissipating as he clutches the rose closer to himself. A man was gazing at him with dark brown eyes, an amulet round his neck. The amulet wasn't anything special in particular - it was simple, a ring of gold around a purple jewel on a silver chain. Only two people had that amulet, and this man was one of them. "What if I was?" he asks hesitatingly, and the man shakes his head.

"Shouldn't have expected anything else. You've got something from the Overworld in your hand. Drop it, now." The angel stepped closer, his dark brown eyes narrowing, his stance speaking volumes about the strict teachings in the Training Academy. "I mean it, Michael. Drop it. It doesn't belong to our realm." His eyes softened. "Look, Michael, I won't tell anyone - but Azka will know, and you'll lose it anyway."

"...Let me have it for a little while, Ant," Michael spits out - he knew better than to speak rudely against one of Azka's Guards. "It's important to me. If I lose it later, so be it, but let me have it. Even if it's just for a few minutes more." Ant stares back with calm eyes and nods slowly. "Thanks, Ant. I owe you one." Not really. Michael didn't really feel like upholding that promise.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Ant says. "You know how the teachings were. You know how they taught us. You know what they said about the Demons. How they are filthy liars, how they never speak the truth, only double-meanings, and how they would stoop to any level to bring us down. I don't care what you do with your life, Michael... I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Ray isn't like what they said in the books," Michael murmurs. "He spent so much time with me, just talking to me and telling me about the things he sees. Ant, why do they keep us locked up in here? Why aren't we ever allowed out? Ant, please, just answer that question and I'll stop. I won't promise I'll stop listening to Ray, but I'll stop taking things from him."

"...I don't know," Ant answers after a moment of deliberation. "We never were taught about that subject, so I can't really say. Not even the Guardian Angels are let out, and they have the most important job of all - protecting children and keeping them from a premature death."

"...There are other things than books and rules," Michael says, and Ant's eyes hardened at that sentence. "We don't always have to listen to them, Ant. Why do we have to? Why do I listen? Why should I? There is nothing left for me here. No one here respects me - they _fear_ me, and it isn't the same. I want someone to listen to me, Ant, and if that someone is Ray I would be happy enough to leave the Aether and gallivant off with him."

"...This 'Ray' of yours has been planting ideas in your head," Ant says sharply. "I suggest you quit listening to him immediately. Azka would not be happy about this, at all - and he would not be happy with me if I were to let you go without any punishment. And Michael, you are the most feared because you are Azka's strongest warrior - what is making you have these thoughts now?"

Michael falls silent, and Ant stares at him, probing for an answer. Michael swallows - a dozen answers swimming through his mind - _Because I want to be free. Because I want to have a friend. Because I want to feel heard. Because I don't want to be feared. Because up here I have nothing left for me to have. Because here, there is no one I can fully consider a 'friend'._

His silence seemingly answered Ant's question for him, and Ant lets out a massive sigh. "Don't leave the Aether, Michael. It's dangerous outside the walls." Before Michael could shoot back an answer, Ant spreads his large wings and surges into the sky, calling out to Michael as he leaves. "I don't care what you do, I have just one promise I want you to make - don't have any ideas that would make Azka want to turn on his best soldier."

Michael swallows - and he knows why he feels such a nervousness that truly renders him immobile for a second, even as he watches Ant disappear through the cloud level to where Azka resides, and he falls, leaning back against the Southern Wall, closing his eyes.

_I can't promise that, Ant. I'm sorry._

* * *

**A/N) Premature cut? Yes. I apologize for that, but it looked like the perfect cliffhanger. :'D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N) Oh and this is Michael and Ray from AH**

**Where's the rest of the crew? In due time. :D**

**Unfortunately not now.**

* * *

The next day, Michael somehow found himself in front of the gates again, lounging about and ignoring his missions. What could they do to him anyways? Ignore him? As if they haven't done that enough already. Michael let out a massive sigh, tugging at the gates, almost silently begging them to open such that he could be free. It was true, what Ant said - that Ray had planted the ideas of leaving in his mind. It was a seed the day before, but now it was like a weed, growing without an ending until it was more of an unquenchable yearning. He gazed out of the gates again, at the pinks and yellows of the sky that faded to blue. Idly, he wondered what it would be like to fly among those colors.

"Ray," he called tentatively, not knowing if the Demon would be there this early in the morning - just after sunrise, too. "_Ray_," he repeated, and almost as if the Demon had been waiting for his summons Ray burst out through the cloud layer with a bunch of different colorful flowers in his hands - which he dropped the moment he saw Michael's face. Michael must have looked as horrible as he felt in order to garner such a reaction - guilt swirled in the pit of his stomach - did he really want to do this? He swiftly reassured himself that yes, he did, and held out a hand for Ray to take. Ray stared evenly back, a flicker of shock in those dark brown eyes.

"...Hey," Ray says. "Never thought that you would be up so early. Well, being up is one thing, but being at the gates is like almost a no-no. What're you thinking about? You look like someone kicked your puppy - no wait, you don't know what a puppy _is_ - you look like someone kicked your... pet? Murdered a friend - no wait that might have actually happened - Notch, I don't know, I suck at this comforting thing, so just blurt your feelings out to me or something, I don't know what to do." Ray's words grew even more frenzied when Michael didn't answer. "Hello? Did you turn into a statue or a zombie overnight? Michael? Dude? You okay? That's a stupid question, you don't look okay."

"...Ray, can you pull me through the gates?" His voice wobbled, and Michael hated the way it made it sound as if he were about to cry. He wasn't about to cry, he wasn't. "I don't want to be in this glorified prison anymore. No Angel believes me when I say it's like a glue trap. I don't want to be here anymore, I want to be outside with you so I can learn everything better and not make you have to visit every day just because I feel upset. I want to learn things without annoying you every time." Ray didn't answer, and Michael's head drooped - he shouldn't have expected anything else, really - why would Ray risk his life in order to get Michael out?

"Coming out anytime this year?" Ray's voice sounded strained, and Michael looked up. Ray was struggling with the gate, having bent it in order to make a gap big enough for Michael to squeeze through, but Michael noticed how the gate seemed to push back, almost as if being shoved back into place by an invisible force. For a second, Michael took the time to reflect. Did he really want this? Was freedom worth it? His lessons always told him of how dangerous it was outside, that he never should leave - "Michael! Now would be great! One of those Guards are coming!"

Michael shot through the gates immediately, his eyes flicking back to the person racing towards it. The gates sprung back to their original position slamming itself shut immediately and locking every other Angel in, and the person - Ant - wrapped his hands around the gates, staring at Michael, his eyes a mix of confusion and rage. "Michael, what are you doing!? Why are you leaving!?" he called, and Michael felt the twinge of guilt return.

"I'm sorry, Ant, but I cannot live as a caged bird any longer," Michael says softly, placing his hands back on the gate, barely registering how it now stung his hands. "I've been hopping around from cage to cage for far too long. I've never gotten to fly, and now I have the chance to start doing so. I'm taking the chance before I never see it again. If that involves throwing away my life, so be it. It'll be worth it in the end." Michael swallows. "I know you don't trust Ray, but I do. You just need to know that."

"...I won't tell Azka," Ant says, a sad smile on his face. "Run. Run as far as you can. He'll catch up to you soon enough, and you need to put as much distance between you and him as you can. Azka travels fast, especially if he wants a treasured Angel back." Ant blinks slowly. "Hey, maybe if you do survive, you could show me what life is like outside, like Ray did to you. I've never questioned the rules, but that doesn't mean I can't be curious." Ant looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees a certain male with a Rubik's Cube-designed hoodie soar up the tower of Azka. "Run! Don't look back! Skit is fetching Him!"

Michael hears a roar surging from the tower as he turns tail to fly, but lets out a startled screech when his wings wouldn't carry his weight anymore. As he plummeted, he reached out a hand to try and touch them, but as they met his fingertips they dissipated into sunbeams and danced away from them. For a long while, his mind couldn't register what was happening to him - but then he realized what it meant, even as his wings slowly became fully gone.

He was Falling.

It usually occurred right after Angels left the gate - really, Michael was lucky they withheld long enough for him to hold a short conversation with Ant. He looked up and noticed Ray diving down after him, reaching out a hand to try and grab him, but he was falling too fast and he couldn't reach up to grab it no matter how much he wanted to. A sudden pain started up on his back and he lets out a screech of terror and pain, before it started to feel like his back exploded. As he watched, a new skeleton of a wing started to meld itself from his back in seconds, rather, erupting violently and making him curl up in pain. Immediately after that, his flesh seemed to form and stretch itself over the featherless wing, and pinpricks started up all over it before jet-black feathers the shade of the night sky blossomed from his wings and he could move them and he wasn't falling anymore.

He was a few meters from the ground, from what he could see. It was green and lush, and Michael let out a crow of joy. Who cared that he was Fallen now? He got his wish, it didn't matter anymore. Ray let out a whoop and skidded to a stop beside him. "C'mon, Michael, your friend said to run, and we still need to do that. I can tell you about everything later, but right now we need to find ourselves a new area, get some inconspicuous clothes and damn we need to cover up our wings. We can't be found, not yet."

"What about Zenith?" Michael asks dizzily, and Ray blinks, tilting his head in confusion. "C'mon, Ray. You came from Zenith's country, didn't you? You're a Demon and everything, you should at least know your king. How are you going to explain your sudden disappearance from the land of the Nether?" Ray blinks, still looking slightly confused before a look of realization spreads over his face.

"Oh, Zenith. I left his country long ago," Ray says, a smile on his face. "It's literally the only reason why I could come when called, and get to be free enough to collect stuff for you. I usually need to steal it, but now... yeah, don't really want to. The tuxedo is fashionable, though. But I need something else if I really wanna blend in just like you. It's a good thing MineCraftians wear whatever they get their hands on - c'mon, let's go."

Michael blinked in confusion, but he played along.

* * *

"Michael, _no_."

"Michael, _yes_," Michael shoots back, holding up the bearskin. He had grown a liking for it, even as Ray threw a pair of orange-tinted goggles at him in frustration. "Oh come on, Ray, you said that MineCraftians literally cared nothing about clothing," Michael shoots at him, and Ray rolls his eyes. "You wear a tuxedo, for Az- _Notch's_ sake." Michael catches himself just barely, at the shopkeeper raises an eyebrow. Michael grumbled to himself, thinking about how lucky he was to know a memory-erasing spell and a conjuring spell. "Go find your own clothes."

Ray mumbled something vulgar and headed off to a different section of the shop, returning with a bunch of clothes. He took off the tuxedo, throwing on a red shirt and tugging on an oversized hoodie a few sizes to big that covered up his wings almost completely. "Pull your hood up," Michael advises, and Ray does, shoving his glasses on and squinting at a mirror as Michael practically threw on his clothes to stand beside the Demon with a smarmy grin on his face.

"My Notch, I look like a hipster," Ray muttered, and Michael laughs. In a slightly louder voice, Ray snaps at Michael, "You look worse, so shut your mouth. Look at yourself. You look like a crazy bear." It only served to make Michael laugh harder as he shoved a hand into his old outfit's pockets and pulled out a conjured wallet filled to the brim with conjured money that he made sure would stay forever and wore and tore like actual money.

"I look _beautiful_, shut up," Michael snickered, calming down as he threw the whole wallet at the shopkeeper, who caught it with a stunned look on his face. Michael was wearing the orange visor-goggles that Ray had thrown at him plus the bear skin over him acting as a cape and shielding his wings from sight, plus yellow shorts. The rest of his outfit were plain brown, just like the fur of the bear, and they both leave after tossing their old clothes in the trash. When the shopkeeper tries to return the wallet as they leave, Michael yells whilst erasing the shopkeeper's memory of their wings, "Just keep the whole thing, it's for dealing with our shenanigans."

The shopkeeper's eyes brightened up and he cleaned up the area with more vigor in his steps. Michael dumps a beanie on Ray's head, the male scowling and rearranging it such that it actually sat well upon his head. "Hooray, even more of a hipster!" Ray muttered sarcastically, and let out a groan when Michael shoved sunglasses on it - not even on his face, just sitting upon the beanie. Ray lifts it up, sunglasses and all, shoved the hood of his hoodie down after making sure his wings don't show, and put them both back on. "Hipster Ray coming at you with a _sweet_ new look!"

"Ray, _no_," Michael says, pretending to be horrified at the prospect of Ray being an actual hipster after all. Ray snickers and grins at him, a wide, infectious smile on his face that caused Michael to smile as well. Ray really had taught Michael as much as he could while they both flew over to the city they now resided in.

"Ray, _yes_."

By the time night arrived, the two of them had managed to rent out an apartment. It wasn't big - on the second floor of some tiny gray building on the corner of a street - but it was good enough for the two of them. Michael let out a muffled groan when they finally figured out after much talking that the house did not come with any furniture and as such for the first night they had to sleep on the hard granite floor. It was too late to go out and grab anything by then, so they just had to make-do until the next morning.

After tossing and turning on the floor (which made terrible sweeping noises, by the way) for hours, Michael gave up and escaped through the window before he flew upwards. He snatched a cloud, thick and cold with water vapor, and pulled it down towards him and shoved the moisture closer together until it stayed in shape and kept like a bed - hopefully until the next morning. Ray watched and let out a long groan. "Why didn't you do that for me? I thought we were _friends_."

"Get your own," Michael snickered, ripping off a piece of the cloud and tossing it at Ray, much like a snowball. Rat growled, shoving himself into the tiny space of a cloud and quickly fell fast asleep. Michael let out a long sigh, deciding he was too lazy to make another one and simply curled up and went to sleep.

When he woke up, Ray was already out of the bed and Michael could hear a knock at the door. He quickly shoved the cloud out of the house and opened it, rubbing his right eye as he noticed his landlord standing there, demanding rent payment. He let out a groan. "Dude, we just moved in," he mumbled, shoving a hand in his pocket. "How much?" He listened to the rent before he dug out four hundred-dollar bills and handed it over before slamming the door in the landlord's face.

"Dude, what was that about?" Ray asks, stepping out of the shower. Michael scowled, and Ray shook his head. "No need to overreact, man. MineCraftians tend to have their eye on money and stuff. Probably because they really need it, and secondly because their economy is jacked up as shit." Michael shrugs, looking out of the window again. "Alright, I'm dressed, you can look back now."

"We need furniture," Michael groaned. "I can't very well fly up every night and snatch a cloud. Someone will see me, sooner or later." Ray grins, and snatches his hand, pulling him towards a mall as Michael hurriedly cast a cleansing spell on himself, screaming expletives at Ray just like the Rage Quitter he was. "Ray! Hold the fuck up a second, Notch damn it! Why are you in such a rush!?"

"No homo," Ray injects, and Michael groans again. Eventually they get their furniture in order and they traipse back to their house, where they both wait and slave around carrying and moving things here and there. After a few hours, they were done, and Michael chooses to browse the Internet on his new laptop while Ray flicks through the channels on the TV, giving a chuckle at a few of them every once in a while.

Michael wasn't having as much fun. He tapped his way through the Web quickly, not really focused on anything until a certain news article caught his eye - 'Sudden light dubbed 'Light of Aether' appears in the West!' - he blinks, squints and rereads the passage before he looks out the window.

The sunset seemed a lot brighter than it should be.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Michael, have you looked at the sun today?"

"Yeah, I've seen it, What about it?" Michael asked, barely interested as he struggles with his wings on the leather couch. It was impossibly hot for some unknown reason, and it had been a week since they had moved in. Every single day, Ray had went and looked out the window, looking for something that he couldn't seem to find. Michael didn't really care; so long as he wasn't found by Azka, he was fine with anything. He struggled with his wings again, trying to make a dip in the leather couch that just wouldn't _happen_, his wings feeling achy and restricted against the material. Eventually he gives up, rolling over onto his stomach and lifting a magazine off the shelf and flicking through it quickly as he actively talks with Ray. "Is there something wrong with the thing that gives us our ever-so-precious sunlight?"

Ray blinks, turning to look over his shoulder at Michael, his gaze flickering back to the sun every so often. The sun was growing brighter every single day and burned the Demon's eyes, but Ray still looked, trying to figure out if anything was wrong. Michael couldn't really bring himself to care anymore - would Azka really wander into a MineCraftian city looking for one of his best soldiers? Probably not - Michael couldn't see the being wandering into a city haphazardly looking for him. "No, it's just that the sun - it's grown bigger. Like, way bigger. It looks like it's consuming half the sky, literally."

At that, Michael shoots off his seat and throwing himself at the window, squinting at the bright sunlight and trying to make sense of it. He swallows, realizing what it is, and he twists around as he unhooks the bearskin from his neck, shoving a bunch of his stuff into the centre and threw it over his shoulder in a bundle, demanding that Ray do the same. Ray stared at him, tilting his head in confusion even as Michael spread his great now-ashen wings, about to throw himself out the window and soar into the sky. "Ray! C'mon, we need to go! Now!"

Ray blinks, sliding off his hoodie and shoving a mass of things into it the same way Michael had, and spread his leathery wings as well. "Are we really going to ditch this apartment for something that probably doesn't mean anything? It might as well be something that happens all the time for the MineCraftians - I mean, they have new moons and red moons and shit, I don't think that this really is anything different at all." Ray was yanked by his arm towards the window, and he lets out an ungraceful squawk as he continues to speak. "Michael! You aren't telling me anything! You'd better explain this to me, Michael! What the hell are you-"

"That's not the sun!" Michael yells as he tugs Ray into the sky. There wasn't any time to explain - he just had to hope that Ray would listen and follow through - they can't do anything anymore, this is the only option - to run away and hope that they won't be found. Thankfully, Ray seemed to understand immediately after Michael screamed his second sentence through the winds that tore his voice away from his throat as they surged through the air flying in the opposite direction of the _thing_ eating the sky with tongues of red and yellow fire. "That's _Azka_!"

"Oh, Notch," Ray mumbled. "C'mon, Michael! We're heading to Zenith's country! It's the only place where we can flee the light - c'mon, Michael, this way!" Ray immediately dove, apparently seeing something or someone that Michael could not. "There's someone chasing us - one of the Guards of Azka's - the one that was going up when your friend told you to go! We need to be careful, Michael, I'm not a citizen of Zenith's anymore!"

"Alright, which direction!?" Michael yelled, not even going to try and argue. Common sense told him that the Kingdom of the Dark would never allow the king of the Kingdom of the Light through - not even on peaceful business. That was only done on the border, and even then it usually only ended up in blood splattering over the Overworld, who laid in peaceful obliviousness about the wars going on above them. Dead Demons and Angels would litter the ground, but as soon as they died their identification of a Demon or Angel would simply melt away. "Ray, think!"

"Towards the moon!" Ray yelled, and Michael twisted round to see who was following them. The actual sun was sinking into the ground of the horizon, turning everything coal-black against a bright orange backdrop, though the light never changed, instead sparking brighter. A speck was immediately to the front of it - _Azka_ - and when the speck got closer and started to form a shape, Michael let out a scream and yelled at Ray to fly faster. It was a certain man with a Rubik's Cube hoodie.

"Skit's coming!" Michael screeched, to which Ray could only reply with a 'fly faster'. Their flying pattern grew erratic - they looped around each other, rising and falling with the wind and diving into all the clouds they could find in the hope of confusing Skit into being unable to follow them. All hopes were dashed by the time an arrow surged over Michael's head, shot by Skit in an effort to stop them both in their tracks. "What does the entrance look like? I'll meet you there!"

"It's a deep hole in the ground, you can't miss it!" Ray yelled, and immediately the Demon veered left. Without any hesitation, Michael turned a sharp right. Azka followed him, and hopefully Skit wouldn't be - if they split, there was a chance that the two would split as well. He was right - when he looked back, he noticed that Skit was nowhere to be seen. He only sees a light shining brightly; blinded, he falls before he regains his vision and his randomly flapping wings were shoved back under control.

Eventually, he finds a deep hole in the ground and immediately dove into it, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Skit aim at him and fire; he ducks, and it flies over his head. Unfortunately, he finds another lodge itself into his shoulder and he falls from the sudden pain. He hears a roar of anger, presumably from Azka, and he breathes unevenly before he raises a hand to check the walls. It was pitch-black, and he couldn't see anything. He goes down further, seeing as how that was the only direction to go, and he was suddenly snatched out of the air and a hand was placed over his mouth. He jolts in shock.

"Shut up," Ray mutters directly into his ear. "We're trying not to be caught, remember? Just in case you don't, we are essentially _trespassing_ and we might as well be thrown directly into prison, so don't you _dare_ talk. I can get through easily enough, but you're gonna need a bit more thinking-through."

He hears the rustle of wings - two pairs of wings. "Is that yours?" Michael whispers, and he hears a pause before he hears a 'no, stop' from Ray, a panicked sound that sounded so much more further away, and he blinks, trying to find his way through the darkness. He suddenly feels a large weight on the back of his head and he falls forward, only to be caught by a pair of arms. "R-Ray?"

"Shut the hell up," says a voice, not sounding like Ray's at all. It was deeper, and Michael immediately tried to wrestle out, but his vision, though dark, was fuzzy, and he could barely move his limbs. "Jordan, did you not whack him over the head hard enough? He's still conscious." Silence, followed by another voice talking, interrupted by the person that was carrying him. From the direction his hair was being blown, he supposed that they were still moving downwards. "No, he's not moving, he seems to be unable to."

"Ray?" Michael asks, terrified. He feels himself shift in the stranger's arms, followed by a deep sigh and a 'why am I doing 'dis'. He blinks, his vision clearing and he could actually see again. "Ray?" he repeats, struggling with a stronger vigor, and the man holding him cursed. He feels something slam on the back of his head, and he nearly blacks out.

"I'm sorry, Michael," he hears Ray say softly. "I really am."

* * *

When Michael wakes up again, he finds himself in a dim cell with no windows. The floor and walls were all rock and very hard, and when Michael raises a hand he finds a bandage wrapped around his head. He frowns, trying to regain his memories. And he remembers what had happened when he hears a lone voice call out towards him from outside the bars. He looks up at the sound of his name.

"Michael," Ray asks, and Michael notices how Ray looked curled up in a corner, watching him as he attempted to clear his vision. The bars separated them, just like how it was back in the Aether when they talked. Now, he felt nothing but anger towards Ray, who crawled up to the bars with a look in his eyes that begged for forgiveness. Michael huffed, twisting round and pointedly ignored him. "Michael, I'm sorry."

Michael turns, his eyes burning with rage, and Ray backs up. Michael realizes how much his throat hurts due to dryness when he attempts to speak. "Why?" he asks, his tongue dry as sandpaper, but still he grated out the words past it, his voice rising in volume though it burned his throat. "Why?" he repeated. "We... were friends. Were." Ray blinked, reaching a hand through the bars, trying to grasp Michael's, who snatched his away. "No... no homo, remember?"

"Michael, do you remember when you were bound by the rules from Azka?" Ray asks softly, and Michael nods slowly. Ray clears his throat, looking to the side swiftly before looking back. "Just like that, I'm bound to the rules from Zenith, just as much as you were bound to the ones of Azka. You _need_ to know that, Michael. I'm sorry."

"You sound like a broken record," Michael spits. "'I'm sorry'. 'I'm sorry'. Does it mean anything to you in the end at all?" he snarls, mimicking Ray's voice terribly. "We were friends, Ray. We used to be better friends. Ant was right - you're a whole lot of filthy liars. I should have trusted him from the beginning."

Michael's glare withers when Ray looks at him with sad eyes, holding out a bottle of water in offering. Michael takes it from him, gulping as much of the liquid down as he could whilst still keeping an eye on the Demon. Ray lets out a sigh when Michael finishes and flings the bottle away from himself, taking out a flower that looked like a rose with ripped edges.

Michael frowned. He had been thinking too much of Azka, he had forgotten all about the dangers everything else could bring. Ant's words echoed in his ears - "_I hope you know what you're doing"_, and his heart swells with guilt. He _didn't_ know what he was doing - he was just wandering around aimlessly following someone on a relationship built on very shaky trust. And as far as he was concerned, that trust was broken.

"We never really finished the lesson on flowers, but this is the best I've got," Ray says, pushing the flower through the bars and letting it fall. "I would give one to you, but..." Ray falls silent, pricking his ears, listening to something that Michael couldn't hear. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I need to go."

Michael stares at the flower. It looked like a rose, but it had no thorns at all - at least, none that Michael could see. The petals were seemingly ripped and torn at the edges, almost, but by the amount of care he knew Ray could give, this was its normal status. It was yellow, but each petal were accompanied with a strange red that only lined the edges of each one.. He takes it, lifting it up as Ray stands up to leave.

"I'll get you out, Michael," Ray says softly. "I _will_."

* * *

**A/N) Huzzah! The next chapter will be Ray's POV... not that Michael could really do anything, being stuck in jail. :v**

**I'm not the best at writing chapters, so everything is probably rushed as all hell vnv I'm so sorry for that.**


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